


PTSD

by Monchevy Love (bam469)



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Chevalier de Lorraine - Freeform, M/M, Philippe d'Orleans - Freeform, monchevy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bam469/pseuds/Monchevy%20Love
Summary: Another scene that the show missed, IMO.  This scene is the chevalier's view of the fireworks (series 1) and the subsequent discussion of Philippe's post war trauma.





	PTSD

The chevalier watched as Philippe stormed through the garden, the fireworks and the thousands of candles lighting his path. He took a step toward Philippe intending to follow him when he saw the sea of nobility parting for Louis. He watched as the brothers distanced themselves from the crowd. What would he have said anyway? Philippe had come back from the war somehow changed and the chevalier had no idea what to do about it. Perhaps Louis did. And so he pretended to watch the fireworks while really watching the brothers wondering whether whatever was wrong with his darling Philippe would throw the chevalier off the knife's edge for good. He knew that the court felt that he used Philippe to increase his own position. After all, who at the court was not using the Bourbons for such purposes? And certainly there were benefits to being the "special friend" of the Duc d'Orleans but there were great risks as well. Risks that would decidedly outweigh the benefits except...except that he had fallen madly in love with Philippe the moment he'd laid eyes on him a decade ago and now he was sentenced to a lifetime of dancing on the knife's edge with one slip meaning a death sentence for committing homosexual acts.

The chevalier watched Louis walk away from Philippe and then he watched Philippe walk back toward the palace through the shadows. The chevalier smoothly extricated himself from the crowd and followed Philippe into the palace. Assuming Philippe would go to his chamber, the chevalier took a shortcut and let himself into the antechamber through a servants door.

The guards opened the main doors allowing Philippe to enter.

"We need to talk," the chevalier said quietly in the darkness.

Philippe startled at the unexpected noise and reached for the dagger in his coat. He had the dagger against the chevalier's throat before he'd realized that he'd even reached for it.

The chevalier stayed very still, his voice very calm. "Philippe, it is I." His heart pounded in his chest betraying his outward ease.

Philippe slowly registered the chevalier and lowered the dagger but didn't return it to its sheathe.

The chevalier turned to face Philippe, an eye on the dagger in his hand. Clearly, Louis had not solved this problem. Had probably made it worse as was his way. "Philippe, my love..." He took a step toward Philippe who stood still. "Let's put this away," the chevalier said gently, taking the dagger out of Philippe's hand.

The candlelight bounced off the dagger illuminating the shiny metal of the blade. Philippe seemed to see the dagger for the first time. "Why do you have a dagger?" Philippe asked the chevalier.

"I was about to ask you the same question, my love," the chevalier said keeping his voice low and calm as if he was speaking to an upset child. "It is yours though with its recent proximity to my neck perhaps now it is mine."

Philippe flashed to holding the dagger against the chevalier's throat surprised that it was the chevalier's throat and not the throat of a Spanish soldier. "I...I did not know it was you." He slowly grasped the gravity of the situation. "I could have killed you. I did not know...."

"Who did you think I was?" the chevalier asked. He paused and then asked the more terrifying question. "Where did you think you were?"

Philippe shook his head, visibly upset by how close he had come to killing the chevalier. The final straw broke him. "The fireworks...sounded like cannon, smelled like cannon. I could see them dying, hear them dying, dying for nothing...." He felt the tears streaming down his face. "I knew them. They followed me into battle and there was so much blood and limbs and skulls smashed...I knew them, I did this to them, and for nothing...."

The chevalier closed the gap between them and put his arms around Philippe. Philippe sagged against him, sobbing. The chevalier gently stroked Philippe's hair. "This is not your fault, my love. You did not rob those men of an honorable death. They died bravely fighting for France just as could have easily happened to you," the chevalier said quietly giving voice to a fear with which he had been living for months.

"Louis used them for cannon fodder. He never intended for us to win the peace," Philippe said, his voice still hoarse with tears. He pulled away from the chevalier and picked up a nearby bottle of wine, sighed, and set it back down. He collapsed onto the couch, exhausted.

The chevalier sat beside Philippe relieved that he seemed to be back in his own head though his tear stained cheeks and hollowed eyes still concerned the chevalier. "Do you wish to talk about it?"

"I wish to stop seeing it," Philippe said quietly.

"I cannot do that. I can do this," the chevalier said wrapping Philippe in his arms.

Philippe felt his muscles relax, felt some of the stress drain away. "This helps."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I am sorry...about the day I returned," Philippe said.

"It was...surprising," the chevalier said carefully. "I should have realized something was wrong then."

"My cock works so there must be something wrong," Philippe said bitterly.

"That was not my point," the chevalier said. "You were not acting yourself and I should not have abandoned you like that." He considered his next question and asked it with some trepidation. "What you wanted then...do you still require it?"

"Are you still opposed?"

"Yes...I am not sure. I..."

"Are you at a loss for words?" Philippe asked incredulously.

"Do not tease," the chevalier said seriously.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"You remember when I said my father went to extreme methods to make me attracted to women?"

"Yes. I remember the scars," Philippe said thinking about how much he would enjoy seeing the Count d'Harcourt with a permanent room at the Bastille. As it was, he would content himself with the thought of him rotting in hell.

"There were other methods...that didn't scar...not physically anyway...and when you...it brought back memories I'd rather forget," the chevalier said quietly.

Philippe's heart broke for the terrified child he saw in the chevalier's eyes. "I am sorry. I would never..."

"I know, my love. I know that. I trust you completely," the chevalier said and then realized the truth of his words. "I trust you completely and if you want to, we can."

Philippe considered this. "No. I do not ever want you to associate me with pain or fear, my sweet. Only pleasure and love." He kissed the chevalier gently. "I did not get a proper welcome home."

The chevalier smiled. "You did not and I had been fantasizing about it since the moment you left." He stood and held out his hand to Philippe. "Come. Let me remedy that."

Philippe took the chevalier's hand and stood up. "Please." He smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
